


kvetch: v.1 (Yiddish) to complain

by mnwood



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, Fluff, M/M, Rimming, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-02-22 08:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2500487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnwood/pseuds/mnwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And that’s when he always runs past cute-boy-who-smiles-at-him. He noticed it during the second week of the semester. The first time it happened (a Monday), Cas was wiping sweat from his face with his forearm when he looked up and saw big green eyes staring right at him almost as if he was waiting on him to notice him. Cas had smiled first that day because that’s what you do when you run past people, you smile politely and keep right on jogging. But the way cute-boy-who-smiles-at-him smiled back at him that day had Cas weak in the knees for a second and nearly tripping over the loose, uneven bricks of the Hillsborough sidewalk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [kvetch: v.1 (Yiddish) to complain](http://www.dailytarheel.com/section/kvetching)

Cas has always enjoyed jogging. He picked up the habit right before high school, and now he runs six or eight miles a few times a week. However, why he decided to go to a university in a town with the word _Hill_ in the name is a mystery to him. Because Chapel Hill is quite literally all hills in every direction you go.

It’s not like he necessarily minds hills all that much; it just makes him breathe a lot harder and sweat a lot more than he’d prefer when he’s running through campus and passing other students on their way to class. He doesn’t want to look like an amateur.

Especially not when he gets to where Raleigh Street turns into Hillsborough Street and inevitably runs past _him._

OK, so it’s not the most ideal place to run past cute-boy-who-smiles-at-him every Monday and Wednesday at 9:45 a.m. (Cute-boy-who-smiles-at-him must have a 10 a.m. class on Mondays and Wednesdays, and since he doesn’t take the bus he must live either on North Street or in Townhouse. No, Cas definitely hasn’t spent a lot of time at all thinking about cute-boy-who-smiles-at-him.) The thing about the Raleigh-Hillsborough juncture is that right before the intersection at Franklin Street, it’s all up-fucking-hill. So when Cas is passing by the sorority houses and running through the Rosemary intersection, he’s huffing and puffing a lot harder than usual.

And that’s when he always runs past cute-boy-who-smiles-at-him. He noticed it during the second week of the semester. The first time it happened (a Monday), Cas was wiping sweat from his face with his forearm when he looked up and saw big green eyes staring right at him almost as if he was waiting on him to notice him. Cas had smiled first that day because that’s what you do when you run past people, you smile politely and keep right on jogging. But the way cute-boy-who-smiles-at-him smiled back at him that day had Cas weak in the knees for a second and nearly tripping over the loose, uneven bricks of the Hillsborough sidewalk.

It wasn’t until Wednesday of that week, however, that Cas realized this could become a pattern. Yes, on that Wednesday he ran past the guy again, less than five feet from where he ran past him on Monday, and this time cute-boy-who-smiles-at-him was the one who initiated the smiling. This time, Cas continued smiling for the remainder of his jog.

It’s been happening for most of the semester now, and Cas is starting to panic. At first it was just “wow what a cute guy,” but over the past several weeks it’s been progressing into more than that.

Wow he’s got such beautiful skin.

Holy shit look at those eyelashes.

Oh god he pursed his lips and there were dimples involved.

Fuck, he puts his damn tongue behind his teeth when he smiles.

The more details Cas notices about cute-boy-who-smiles-at-him, the easier it is to imagine what it would be like to actually _talk_ to him, to go out with him, to kiss those lips that are too big for that face. But he’s starting to panic.

It’s almost Thanksgiving. Which means the semester is almost over. Which means Cas won’t be passing by cute-boy-who-smiles-at-him anymore unless miraculously next semester Cas still doesn’t start class until noon and cute-boy-who-smiles-at-him starts class at 10.

He has to do something. Every day for at least half of his run he thinks (OK, fantasizes) about what it would be like to stop and strike up a conversation with cute-boy-who-smiles-at-him. He thinks through all the possibilities, all the things he could do to make this work, to see if the guy is as interested in him as Cas is.

In a stroke of genius one morning as he’s turning onto Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard, it hits him. The most subtle, passive aggressive but completely harmless solution he can come up with.

 

* * *

 

Dean loves his job at The Daily Tar Heel, but sometimes he wishes he hadn’t decided to work on Thursday nights. Working from 6:30 p.m. to whenever the paper gets done (deadline is technically at midnight—usually the earliest he leaves is 12:30) when he _should_ be out drinking with his friends is really starting to wear on him. Why he ever accepted a promotion to Copy Editor he’ll never know.

The only good thing about working on Thursdays, though, is that he gets to edit the kvetching board.

The kvetching board is arguably every student’s favorite section of The Daily Tar Heel. The word “kvetch” is Yiddish for “to complain,” and the kvetching board is a collection of some of the best tweet-sized complaints sent to the opinion desk each week.

Among Dean’s all-time favorites are “Who do I have to blow to get Jamba Juice back?” and “To the girl who just kvetched about me, bet you didn’t know I worked for the DTH, did you?”

But of course, with as crappy of a day as Dean’s been having, the kvetches are all pretty lame this week.

_My professor apologizes for taking a while to grade tests, and I’m just like, “No worries. I actually prefer living in denial.”  
_

_I wish my math professors made tests like the UNC defense: not too hard to understand and easy to score highly on._

_To my professor who claimed he brought us presents by saying he brought his presence, I see you are also a part-time dad.  
_

OK, that last one was actually pretty funny. Dean’s still chuckling when he’s stopped short by the next one.

_To the guy who smiles at me when I run past him on Hillsborough every Monday and Wednesday morning, please be gay please be gay please be gay or at least a little bi._

Fucking hell. Did hot-jogging-guy-with-sex-hair just kvetch about him?

 

* * *

 

Cas can feel his heart beating in his ears when he reads through the kvetches on Friday morning.

And there’s his. Right there. Holy shit, what has he done.

OK, OK, this is fine. Maybe cute-boy-who-smiles-at-him doesn’t even read the DTH. Maybe he’ll never even see it. Maybe he’ll see it and not realize that it’s about him.

Yeah, right, Cas was as specific as possible, and everybody reads the fucking kvetching board. He’s fucked.

He doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that he has the entire weekend to stew over this. Maybe he should just skip his run Monday morning, avoid the situation completely.

But then he starts thinking of all the great things that could happen Monday morning. Maybe cute-boy-who-smiles-at-him will stop him and strike up a conversation and finally tell him his name and Cas will forget his run and the guy will forget his class and they’ll go back to Cas’ apartment and make out for a while.

Yeah.

His legs feel like jelly as he’s running on Monday. He feels like he’s pushing through a wall when he turns onto Raleigh and heads up the hill. He gets well past where he usually runs by cute-boy-who-smiles-at-him when his mood deflates. Where is he? Did he get freaked out by the kvetch?

But then Cas is just about to run past Townhouse when he sees him about 10 feet away. He’s walking faster today than usual, probably because he’s going to be late, and he’s running a hand through his hair nervously.

Cas doesn’t take his eyes off him as he’s running by, but cute-boy-who-smiles-at-him only looks up at the last second. He doesn’t smile today. He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, and then he turns his eyes away and walks faster.

Fuck.

Cas turns the volume on his iPod up louder and runs just a little faster. He’s changing his route on Wednesday.

 

* * *

 

Dean fucked up. He fucked up on Monday, and now it’s Wednesday and he really has to redeem himself. He keeps playing it over and over in his head. He knows exactly what he’s going to say. He’s just got to suck it up and _say_ it.

But he gets all the way to the Franklin intersection today and still no sign of hot-jogging-guy-with-sex-hair. He considers turning back around and walking the route again. Maybe he’s just running late today?

No, he’s not that desperate. He slumps his shoulders a little and keeps walking to class.

Shit.

 

* * *

 

Cas doesn’t grab a paper on Friday. He’s too embarrassed about last week to even think about the kvetching board right now.

He’s sitting in the back of his Econ recitation waiting for class to start when he hears a couple sorority girls talking. One of them is holding the DTH and showing it to the other.

“Did you see last week’s? I think this one is a response to the one from last week that was like ‘please be gay, please be gay.’ Isn’t that adorable?”

Cas straightens up in his chair so fast that the girls turn to him. “Um—sorry, can I see that?” he asks, pointing at the paper.

The girl laughs and nods as she hands over the paper, already flipped to the opinion page.

Cas scans the kvetches furiously until he sees it.

_Yes, hot jogging guy, I’m a “little bi.” I missed you on Wednesday._


	2. Chapter 2

It’s a long shot, Dean knows. But hot-jogging-guy-with-sex-hair is the one who started it, so whatever. He’s not just going to sit around and twiddle his thumbs waiting for the dude to run past him and _maybe_ stop to talk to him.

He had to be diligent on Thursday night to even get his kvetch into the paper. Sure, he’s the very last person to read the paper before it’s sent to the printer, but that doesn’t mean he can just change whatever he wants.

Lucky for him, the Managing Editor, Charlie, is a hopeless romantic.

“Hey, Charlie, did you read the kvetches last week?”

“Uh, probably, why?”

“Remember the one where the guy was begging for some stranger to be gay?”

Charlie actually leaned around her computer to look at Dean. Rare thing to happen while they’re working this close to deadline. “Oh my god, yeah. That was so cute.”

“Yeah, well, that was about me I think.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Everybody in the office was listening now, and Dean could feel heat rise to his cheeks. He really wished this office wasn’t set up like a damn fishbowl.

“Um, no. Can I, um, kvetch back?”

“Dean Winchester, I would kill you if you didn’t kvetch back. Put it in _right now.”_

Dean had been thinking about it all day and all day yesterday, too, so he knew exactly what to write. Now all he had to do was wait until Monday.

Hopefully hot-jogging-guy-with-sex-hair would get the message.

 

* * *

 

Cas thinks he might lose the ability to be affected by gravity and fly off into the sun before the weekend’s over.

How dare cute-boy-who-smiles-at-him kvetch back on a fucking _Friday_ when he knows they won’t see each other again until Monday. How dare he.

They don’t even know each other’s names and they are already causing so many problems for one another.

 

* * *

 

Dean doesn’t usually work on Sunday nights, but his co-editor is out of town, so they switched shifts. Three people have already asked him if he’s heard back from his secret admirer. (“He’s not a secret, damn it. I know exactly what the guy looks like.”)

His assistant tonight, Meg, is in the middle of explaining to one of their staffers how to check CQ’s in the new system when her phone rings, and she asks Dean to take over.

“Got a friend swinging by to drop off my meds since I forgot them,” Meg explains before stepping aside to take the call.

Dean finishes explaining everything to the poor staffer, and then it’s a quiet few minutes as he and Meg read next to each other at their respective computers. Out of his peripheral vision, he sees a guy walk up to Meg and he hears them greet each other but he’s really focused on this article but then the guy stops mid-word to make a noise like a pained squawk and Dean looks over and—

Hot-jogging-guy-with-sex-hair.

 

* * *

 

_Why the ever-loving fuck didn’t Meg tell me that she works with cute-boy-who-smiles-at-me what the fuck what the fuck fuck my life._

“Um.” Beautiful, Cas. Very eloquent.

“Uh…”

Wow, they sure are great at this. After feeling anxious and excited all weekend, he’s now seeing the guy 12 hours earlier than expected and he has no idea what to do.

“I’m Dean.”

Dean. Perfect. “I’m Cas.”

“O…kay, not sure what’s going on here, but thanks for the meds, Cas. You can go now,” Meg says awkwardly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Cas says, holding Dean’s stare like his life depends on it.

“Um. Yeah, uh—yeah.”

He turns and high tails it out of there.

 

* * *

 

Dean stares at the door, slack-jawed and incapable of higher brain function.

“What the hell just happened?” Meg asks suspiciously.

“That was…”

“Oh my _god,”_ Charlie interrupts. “That was him, wasn’t it? That was the guy!”

“What the hell am I missing here?” Meg asks as Dean says, “Yeah, that was, um, that—Cas…”

Charlie jumps out of her seat, knocking over her chair, and sprints for the door before Dean can protest.

 

* * *

 

Stupid. Stupid, stupid. What the fuck is Cas going to say tomorrow when he runs past Dean? _“Yeah, so, this is awkward, huh? Wanna suck my dick or something?”_ He wants to throw things. He wants to curl up in a hole and die. He wants to—

“Cas! Cas, right? Hey, slow down!” a voice from behind him shouts.

He turns and suddenly there’s red hair and a big grin right there at his face.

“You’re the—you’re the guy. Dean told me about you. Was that the first time you guys have met?”

“Um, yes. It was. I'm _what_ guy?”

“Dude, you guys are so not chill. You’re both two seconds away from ripping each other’s clothes off yet you can’t say two words. Come on, you got to go back in there.”

“I can’t just…”

“Cas. Dean talks about you. _A lot._ Now, I don’t know you, but I do know Dean. And the guy doesn’t just blab about people he likes. He doesn’t get all gooey-eyed over _anybody._ If I can’t get him to get his head out of his ass, I’m going to try to get _you_ to.”

His resolve breaks. _Fine,_ he thinks stubbornly as his heart begins to pound.

He follows the girl back into the building, and—

Dean is gone.

“Where the hell is Dean?” the girl asks the room.

Everybody’s eyes shoot over to them, but it’s Meg who answers. “He’s in the bathroom hurling his guts up.”

 

* * *

 

His feet have never felt so damn heavy in his life as Dean walks to class on Monday morning.

 _Cas._ Hot-jogging-guy-with-sex-hair has a name. And Dean can say it today. He can pass by him and say, “Heya, Cas,” and Cas will say, “Hello, Dean,” and then they will exchange phone numbers and laugh about their awkwardness and everything will be just fine.

If he can even will his feet to keep stepping forward.

It turns out he missed his second opportunity last night, too. Charlie looked absolutely livid at him when he came out of the bathroom, but it's not like he could do anything about the fact that meeting Cas had literally made him sick with nervousness. And it's not like he knew that Charlie would drag Cas back into the office for a big sweeping moment like in _The Proposal._ Not that Dean even really likes that stupid movie anyway.

He spots Cas long before he should. The guy’s running down the steps at the top of the hill, and Dean’s all the way at the bottom. He tries not to stare and fails.

The exact moment that Cas sees him staring, everything in his demeanor shifts. He straightens his back, drops his chin, scratches behind his ear and runs just a little faster.

Shit. Dean’s forgotten how to speak. He’s pretty sure he’s frozen in place. He doesn’t think he’s walking anymore at all.

He sees blue, and he’s opening his mouth to say something, anything, but suddenly—

Sweat-slicked lips are crashing into his, a clammy hand is wrapping around the back of his head, a wet t-shirt is sliding against his flannel.

 

* * *

 

“Dean,” he breathes out like a prayer, like a sigh of relief.

“Well, this certainly cancels out the awkward introductions,” Dean says in an almost hoarse voice.

“I’ve waited a long time to do that.” He’s still right up against Dean’s mouth, standing on his tiptoes so they’re eye-to-eye.

“You could’ve said something, you know.”

Arms snake around Cas’ lower back, and he shivers. “I did. To the entire student body.”

Dean laughs and knocks their foreheads together.

“Skip your class.”

“Yeah, OK,” Dean mumbles as he finds Cas’ mouth again.

Hey, maybe the guy who just sidestepped around them with a scoff will kvetch about them this Friday.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sighs loudly* I'm a garbage can that doesn't know how to stop writing a fic. The first half of this chapter is explicit, with a rim job to boot. [[[Sorry]]]

“Sorry I’m sweaty.”

“I don’t care."

“Do you want to shower with me?”

“Yeah, whatever. Just take your damn clothes off.”

It was a long walk back to Cas’ apartment. It wasn’t until they were halfway there that they realized it would’ve been a lot faster to just go to Dean’s. But it doesn’t matter now. They’ve both unknowingly waited so long for this, and walking hand-in-hand at a brisk pace was torture enough—there’s no way they could’ve coordinated a game plan for whose apartment would be best to go to.

They had both had the same idea when they got to Cas’, and it was a little awkward as they fell through the door, shoving at each other hungrily and making out like horny teenagers (which, come to think of it, they’re not that far off from). It turns out Cas is stronger than Dean, so he won the competition of who got to pin the other person to the wall first.

Any conversations they have are held between desperate kisses and shedding of clothes. They fall into the shower while it’s still cold, and they both wince and laugh while cramped in the small space.

“Can I suck your dick?” Dean asks as his hands roam up and down Cas’ sides in anticipation.

Cas huffs a laugh. “You sure cut right to the chase. Go ahead.”

Lucky for them both, Dean has sucked a lot of dick since he got to college, so he knows what he’s doing. Cas is warm and wet in his mouth, and he tries to focus on the noises Cas is making so he doesn’t get nervous and choke on the water spraying at his face. He decides the best course of action is not to do anything fancy (shame) and instead just keep as much of his mouth on Cas’ dick as possible at all times. At some point, Cas even grips Dean’s hair and guides his head where he wants it to go while he tries to keep his hips steady against the shower wall. Because he’s an asshole, Dean wraps his hands around Cas’ legs until he’s got a solid grip on his ass, and he counters Cas’ hair pulling by thrusting his hips for him.

Cas laughs unexpectedly. “I see we both have control issues—good to know.”

Cas stops laughing when Dean swirls his tongue all the way around his length, hollows out his cheeks, digs his fingers into the soft skin of his ass and finally deep throats him until Cas is yelling his name and spilling into his mouth.

Dean spits into the shower drain, tilts his head up to the water to rinse his mouth out and then stands to give Cas a smug kiss. Cas apparently has other ideas, so he shoves Dean into the adjacent wall, slots his leg between Dean’s so his thigh is rubbing up against his balls, and then he sucks long and hard on his neck until Dean bites his own lip so hard it bleeds.

“Hickeys? Really, Ca—”

Cas cuts him off with a kiss before pulling back and commanding, “Turn around.”

“What?”

_“Turn around.”_

Almost the second Dean’s hands are braced against the wall, he’s lit on fire with the touch of Cas’ tongue in his ass. Apparently Cas knows what he’s doing as well—he works his tongue slowly in and out while palming Dean’s cheeks apart enough to slide a finger in, too. Dean is thrusting back desperately, groaning on each movement and nearly yelling when Cas adds a second finger and pushes his tongue between them. He wants to grab his dick, but if he lets go of the shower wall he’ll definitely collapse.

Cas seems to read his mind, and after a few minutes of torture he blindly reaches around and takes Dean in his fist. With the combination of tongue and fingers in his hole and a hand pumping his dick, Dean comes embarrassingly quickly against the shower wall. He turns and slumps and winces when his ass hits the tile floor, but he’s so blissed out he doesn’t care. It seems Cas feels the same, because he curls up next to him and drops his head on Dean’s thigh.

“I don’t think you’re any cleaner now than you were during your run.”

“I’ll kick you out of here and rinse myself off in a minute.”

Dean drops his hand to Cas’ hair and strokes it lazily. “You got anything going on the rest of the day?”

“More important than this? No.”

Dean is caught off guard by the serious straightforwardness. “Can I—um, can I take you on a date or something?”

“Yes, I suppose we should try and get to know each other.”

“I’m just going to go out on a limb here and say that I _think_ we’ll like each other.”

Cas reaches up to the hand in his hair and laces their fingers together awkwardly. “I agree. Now get out of here so I can get ready.”

 

* * *

 

It’s not that Cas is _nervous,_ it’s just that he’s—well, OK, yeah, he’s nervous. Sex is fine, sex he’s good at. But actually interacting with the beautiful boy he’s been dreaming about for the past few months is terrifying. What if he’s not anything like he imagined? What if they don’t get along? Or worse, what if it’s uncomfortable?

It doesn’t really help that Dean seems to be all confidence and charm. When Cas is done getting ready, he comes out of the bathroom to find Dean sitting at his kitchen counter playing a game on his phone while he waits. When he notices Cas, his whole face lights up.

“Hey. You look great.” He stands and takes in the full view with no shame. “Do you like Buns? I was thinking we could go to Buns. They give me discounts on their burgers because I eat there so often.”

“Yeah, um, sounds great.”

Dean flashes a grin before sliding his arm low around Cas’ waist and leading him out the door. _Whose_ apartment is this again?

The walk up to Franklin is quiet and, thankfully, comfortable. Their hips bump as they walk, and Dean scratches his fingers into Cas’ waist reassuringly. Cas keeps his arms folded over his chest because it’s a little colder than it felt when he was running earlier.

“You, uh, seem to know what you’re doing,” Cas comments.

“I’ve had a girlfriend or two.”

“No boyfriends?”

“Nah, mostly just hook-ups. The guys here are, uh, weird about the whole bi thing.”

“That’s unfortunate. The gay community here does seem a bit…”

“Exclusive, yeah,” Dean finishes. “I don’t really hang out with very many gay guys.”

“Me neither. That’s probably why we’ve never met before now.”

Dean hugs Cas closer to his side. “That, and we’re both idiots who couldn’t even say so much as ‘hello’ passing by each other twice a week.”

Cas turns to smile at Dean. “Good point.” On impulse, he leans forward and kisses him squarely on the mouth. When he pulls away, Dean’s blushing a little.

“You’re really hot, Cas.”

“You’re quite hot yourself, Dean.”

They kiss again, and it’s awkward trying to walk and kiss at the same time and Dean trips over a loose brick and they laugh and some people walking past them look at them like they’re the cutest people in the world. It’s everything Cas has ever wanted.

Dean wasn’t lying about Buns, and when they walk in the cashier calls him by name and gives him a 20 percent discount on their food. Dean insists on paying because “I’m the one who invited you,” and then he insists that Cas order a milkshake with his burger and fries. So much for his jog earlier.

As soon as they sit down, Dean starts with, “So. What are you good at besides rim jobs?”

Cas nearly chokes on his milkshake. “I, uh…”

Dean just laughs at him. “I mean, tell me about yourself.”

Not one to waste time on small talk, Cas jumps right in with telling Dean all about his last two years at college. He tells him about how he lived in Granville freshman year and had a guy on his hall notorious for drunkenly pulling the fire alarm every Saturday at 3 a.m. He tells him about his work-study job at the theater where he mostly just hangs lights and makes fun of the grad students. He tells him about meeting Meg at a house party because she had a pipe and he needed a smoke so they ended up outside talking for two hours. He tells him all about his jogging schedule, about how he couldn’t wait to see Dean every Monday and Wednesday, how pathetic he had been about the whole thing.

“ _You_ were pathetic? Dude, I told my friends about you as if we actually knew each other,” Dean interrupts as he steals a fry from Cas’ basket.

“Yes, well, we’ve already established that we are both idiots.” Cas finishes his milkshake and slides his leftover fries at Dean.

They sit in the restaurant for another hour, Dean gushing about his little brother and explaining how his family’s moved around all their lives. Cas realizes very quickly that he hasn’t had the easiest life, and he decides right then to try to give Dean everything he deserves. Sure, he doesn’t really know him that well, but he doesn’t care.

Friends, friends with benefits, boyfriends—whatever Dean wants, Cas is going to give it to him.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s a Friday morning.

Cas feels a little groggy, but he goes for his run anyway. He doesn’t have class on Fridays (senior underload, hell yeah), but he works for eight hours so there’s really no other time to exercise except right now.

It’s warmer outside than he expected it to be, which is annoying. He takes off his jacket and ties it around his waist, but that doesn’t help much.

When he gets to campus, it’s right in the middle of a class exchange. He gets stuck behind a large herd of students moving unreasonably slowly and blocking the entire sidewalk. He almost gets hit by a biker.

He gets a cramp in his side only four miles in, and he has to stop and walk twice.

His old, shitty iPod runs out of batteries with a mile left.

He slams the door behind him when he gets back to his apartment.

“You all right, babe?”

“What are you doing up already?”

Dean finishes spreading mayonnaise on a sandwich and turns around. “I was going to, um, walk you to work.”

“Don’t bother. I need to bike, since I’m running late and all.”

“But—I—”

Cas cuts him off with a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Seriously, it’s fine. Go back to sleep. Thanks for making me lunch.”

While Cas is in the shower, he hears Dean shout from outside the door, “You sure you don’t want me to walk you? You’re not running _that_ late!”

“What is _up_ with you today? You’re never this adamant about walking me to work!” Cas shouts back.

It’s a long time before Dean responds, “You’re not pissed at me, are you?”

“No! I just had a bad run, and I’m going to be late! It’s not you!”

“OK.”

Dean still looks concerned when Cas is leaving, but he doesn’t ask to walk with him again. They share a quick peck on the lips before Cas straps his helmet on and runs out the door. It’s not until he’s halfway to work that he realizes how poorly he just treated his boyfriend.

What a shitty morning.

 

* * *

 

“He _what?”_

“I don’t know! He had a really bad morning I guess, and he wouldn’t let me walk him to work.”

“OK, don’t panic. We can figure this out. Just—just breathe, OK?”

“I’m fucked. I am so fucked.”

Dean paces around his living room and presses the phone against his forehead before returning it to his ear. This is not how today was supposed to go.

“How late is he going to be at work?” Charlie asks.

“’Til 5. Like usual. I have class until 4. Sometimes I wait for him so we can walk home together.”

“God, you guys are gross.”

“ _Charlie._ Focus.”

“Fine. All right, um, just—make sure you pick him up from work. And keep your phone on you in case…”

“In case everything is ruined, yeah, I got it. Thanks, Charlie.”

“Good luck, nerd.”

Dean takes a deep breath after hanging up.

Senior year. Stressful times.

 

* * *

 

Cas’ day doesn’t really get any better. Work is slow and boring and by 3 p.m. he just wants to take a nap. Dean texted him at lunch and asked if he could walk home with him, and Cas didn’t respond. He kind of hates leaving his bike at work, and he really doesn’t feel like dealing with whatever reason why Dean’s acting so fucking clingy today. Usually Cas is attentive to his needs, and sure he feels bad for being a dick, but today is just not a great day. Sometimes he wishes he knew how to tell his boyfriend to back off a little.

When he walks out the back door at 5 to find Dean leaning against the building waiting for him, he tries his best to hide his disappointment. Dean doesn’t buy it.

“Rough day at work?”

“Rough day in general. Why didn’t you go home when you got out of class?”

Dean shoves his hand into the back pocket of Cas’ jeans. “Wanted to see you, make sure you’re OK.”

“I’m _fine.”_

“Yeah, you sound fine. Hey, wait a second.” Dean stops them both so he can run over to the newspaper rack to grab a copy of the DTH.

“Dean, what are you—”

“Kvetches. You read them today?”

“No.”

Dean flips the paper to the opinion page and scans the kvetching board.

“Didn’t you already read those last night? Why do you care?” Cas asks.

“Because they’re funny. C’mon, just read them.”

“Why?”

“Maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that. Come _on,_ Cas.”

“Oh my _god,_ Dean, _leave me alone.”_

"Oh, seriously, you love the kvetches!"

"I'm just not in the mood, Dean."

"But they're _really_ good today, I promise."

" _Dean_ —"

“Will you just please read the fucking kvetches so I can propose to you already, you grumpy asshole?”

 What.

“What?”

Dean shakes out the paper and angrily reads, “It’s been two years since you kvetched about me. Best two years of my life. Hopefully when you’re reading this there’s a ring in my hand and I’m down on one knee next to you.”

Cas is frozen on the sidewalk. There are tears streaming down his face, he knows. His brain is not forming coherent thoughts, so he stands in silence until Dean reaches into his pocket and drops to his knee. He’s vaguely aware of people stopping nearby and snapping pictures on their phones. And somehow they ended up in front of the Old Well. How poetic.

“Castiel Novak, you stupid idiot, will you please just fucking marry me so I can wake up next to your miserable face and make you coffee and breakfast and walk you to work even when you don’t want me to every morning for the rest of our lives?”

Cas stares at the ring. It’s plain and silver and perfect. “God, I’m an idiot."

Dean lifts his eyebrows expectantly, probably wondering if Cas is even going to say yes.

“Yes, I’ll marry you, you insufferable moron.”

A grin splits Dean’s face before he fumbles to put the ring on Cas’ finger (drops it, picks it up, puts it on the wrong finger, curses, finally shoves it on the right one) and pulls Cas into a wildly inappropriate kiss (with a two-handed ass grab and everything) while people all around them cheer and holler.

OK so maybe it wasn’t such a bad day after all.

 

* * *

 

“Cas! Get in here!”

Cas puts the last of the dishes in the dishwasher and joins Dean at the kitchen table where he’s on his laptop. Dean pushes the screen toward him and points superfluously.

“Eight thousand likes! We got eight _thousand_ likes on Overheard.”

Cas stares at the Facebook page where there’s a picture of Dean down on one knee and Cas looking dumbstruck. The caption has Dean’s kvetch and explains the backstory.

“Wow, aren’t we special?” Cas says condescendingly with a sloppy kiss to his fiancé’s cheek. “If only they knew what you were saying when that picture was being taken.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, asshole. I’ll let you know when it hits ten thousand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL this has been quite the unexpected journey, but I think I can safely say that this fic is done now. In case you couldn't tell from this, I went to UNC-Chapel Hill. Here's the link to the [Overheard at UNC](https://www.facebook.com/groups/OverheardUNC/) page. 
> 
> I purposely put Dean and Cas in front of the Old Well because it's [beautiful](https://www.google.com/search?hl=en&site=imghp&tbm=isch&source=hp&biw=1280&bih=615&q=chapel+hill+old+well&oq=chapel+hill+old+well&gs_l=img.3..0j0i5.854.2627.0.2751.20.13.0.2.2.1.155.1032.2j7.9.0.msedr...0...1ac.1.61.img..10.10.908.M4tB4lZDiEM) and also it's the main landmark here....and I'm hoping somebody draws fan art of Dean proposing to Cas in front of it wink wink.
> 
> Just to explain the set-up of The Daily Tar Heel: staffers are basically just volunteers, assistant desk editors are paid but don't do as much as editors, and desk editors are the bosses. Dean was the head of the copy desk, which is actually unrealistic considering he was a sophomore, but ~whatever~. Charlie as the managing editor would basically be as important as the editor-in-chief. 
> 
> All the names of restaurants, streets, apartment complexes, etc. are all accurate.
> 
> I'm [deancasheadcanons](http://deancasheadcanons.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, and [this is my website.](https://maddmadeshop.com/)
> 
> [Rebloggable links](http://deancasheadcanons.tumblr.com/tagged/kvetch)


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